Friday, May 2, 2014

TGIF!!

But not really.

Hearsay's release day is fast approaching and I still have so much to
do to get it ready! This means I'm going through that phase where I feel
equal parts nervous and excited and I just want to puke. Fun times!
I'll have a mini-tour. I'll talk about the characters and their story
and whatnot. Then I'll sit back and start biting my nails. You know, the
usual. But, anyhow.

This here is Chapter One. It'll give you all a glimpse at one of the issues MC Derrick Swain will be facing in this book.

Chapter One

Rumor.

Gossip.

Unverified information.

Hearsay.

The legal term for testimony in a court proceeding where the witness
does not have direct knowledge of the facts asserted and normally
considered inadmissible as evidence against the accused... unless the
charges were child molestation. In that case, all bets were off, and a
third, fourth, or even fifth party allegation alone could land a
person’s ass in jail before they became fully aware of what the fuck was
going on.

At times it seemed as if serial killers could get
more leniency than a person accused of child molestation, and that was
without a formal indictment. Once the rumors started, the suspect was
presumed to be guilty by mostly everyone, whether there was any physical
evidence or not. Derrick remembered seeing this happen in a similar
case sensationalized in the news when he was a kid and had taken a
closer look once he started practicing as a family law attorney. He
never thought it’d happen to a dear friend.

“I can’t believe those fuckers are turning everything I said against me!”

The angry words were followed by retching so violent it made Derrick wince as he stood by the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?”

Stupid question, yes, but Derrick needed to make sure Tyler would be
fine. After fifteen minutes of tightly embracing the porcelain god,
Derrick was afraid the guy had nothing left to throw up but his guts.
Well, maybe his heart, considering the reason why he’d shown up at
Derrick’s place at eight o’clock at night unannounced.

Tyler
hadn’t said much after his “I’m being falsely accused of sexually
molesting a minor” greeting the second he came through the front door,
but Derrick was a lawyer. He knew, without having to be told, how deep
of a shithole Tyler was in.

“I cooperated with them.” Tyler’s voice sounded like gravel. No surprise there. His throat must be raw and bleeding by now.

“Who exactly do you mean by them? Who did you talk to?” Derrick asked
carefully, praying to God his suspicions were wrong, then cursing under
his breath when Tyler confirmed his biggest concern.
“People from
the Administration for Children’s Services and that investigator the
police depart—” Tyler’s words were interrupted by some more retching.
When he managed to finish the sentence, his voice sounded muffled, as if
it was coming from inside the toilet bowl. Yuck. “The police sent an
investigator. I talked to her.”

Big mistake.

Huge!

Falsely accused people often decided to talk to the authorities to try
and clear things up, but instead they only managed to talk themselves
into a corner. Derrick’s stomach tied in a knot.

“That’s the
worst thing you could’ve done. What the hell were you thinking, talking
to a police investigator without lawyering up?”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“You should’ve called me the moment you found out there were
allegations against you,” Derrick barked. “Have you any idea how much
damage—”

“I thought that if I talked to them, they’d see it was all bullshit and leave me alone.”

“Fuck, Tyler.” Derrick took a deep breath and forced himself to not
kick the door open and strangle his friend. “You can’t possibly be that
stupid.”

“And that motherfucking piece of shit Brandon,” Tyler
snarled once the retching had stopped. “How could he do this to me? How
could he believe I’m capable of sexually molesting a kid? How could he
get ACS involved without talking to me first?”

“Brandon?” he
repeated, trying to put a face to the name that had obviously started
this mess. “Are you talking about the former rent boy who now volunteers
at the safe house?”

“Stripper,” Tyler corrected him after
flushing the toilet. “He worked as a stripper before starting college.
He wasn’t a volunteer. He did his social work internship at the safe
house. But he’s been on the payroll for over a year now.”

“How come I didn’t know that?”

The moment the question came out of his mouth, he shook his head and
dismissed it with a hand gesture.
Derrick’s curiosity usually got the
best of him, but the answer wasn’t important, nor would it change
anything.

“It isn’t like I discuss every aspect of the Coleman Safe House with you, do I?”

“Maybe you should,” Derrick suggested, looking down and smiling at his
yellow tabby when he rubbed his head against Derrick’s leg.

“Robbie Yates—the kid accusing me—also said he was present when I had sex with a few dudes and—”

“The police think I exposed myself to a minor?” The question came out
as a shriek. Derrick didn’t care. He was freaking out a bit. “Are they
saying we had a three-way with Robbie Yates?”

“They didn’t say
that, but they wanted to know about my sex life.” Tyler’s voice was so
low, Derrick could barely make out the words. Or perhaps it was the
thunder of his own heart that was stopping him from hearing them. “I
haven’t been with that many guys. I— Shit. I didn’t think…”

“You
didn’t think it’d be a big deal to share the details with them,” Derrick
finished, all of a sudden feeling tired and about ninety years old.

Lumière rubbed himself against his leg again. Most likely he’d sensed
Derrick’s distress and wanted to cheer him up, but when Derrick failed
to pick him up, he meowed loudly and disappeared behind the bedroom
door.

“I’m sorry… For what it’s worth, we never had sex at the safe house, you and I. They can’t possibly charge you with anything.”

“Oh, they can,” Derrick scoffed. “And there’s a damn good chance they will.”

“You’re a lawyer. You can get good legal representation and put an end to this mess.”

“I know that,” Derrick said again, “but I can’t afford the scandal. Neither of us can.”

“I don’t think they’re going after you,” Tyler mumbled.

“I hope they aren’t, but they may question me. I’m not looking forward to that.”

Even if the investigators decided they didn’t give a shit about Derrick
or any other casual or temporary lovers, they’d want to build a strong
case against Tyler. He was a big fish. A gay man running a safe house
for runaway gay teens mostly on sponsorships and government grants and
charity money was gold for the media. Derrick couldn’t take any risks.
He wanted both of their names cleared of all suspicion of wrongdoing as
soon as possible.

“So one of the kids went to Brandon and accused
you of sexually molesting him, and Brandon went straight to the
authorities without warning you first. Is that correct?” Derrick used
the tone of voice he reserved for his clients: practical, efficient, and
direct. He knew from experience it relaxed them a little and made them
feel more understood.

“Correct. And to think I went on two dates
with that fucking prick.” Tyler yanked the bathroom door open. He looked
like shit. “I need to borrow a toothbrush.”

“There’s a new one in the medicine cabinet,” Derrick said absently. “Isn’t Brandon like, twenty-three?”

“Almost twenty-seven,” Tyler corrected through a mouthful of
toothpaste. He never stopped brushing his teeth, but he sought Derrick’s
eyes on the mirror above the sink. “I had sex with him.”

“Recently?”

“About a week before Robbie talked to him, but that didn’t stop him
from believing the little scumbag who’s falsely accusing me.”

“He didn’t witness anything!” Tyler threw the toothbrush in the sink,
rinsed his mouth quickly, and faced Derrick. “That’s why I decided to
talk to them. I’ve done nothing wrong, and this is fucking crazy. I’ve
dedicated my entire life to helping gay kids in need. They just have to
take a look at my record to see that—”

“Nothing you’ll say or do
at this point will convince the authorities that the abuse didn’t
occur,” Derrick interrupted him. “You know how it is, Tyler. Some kids
are really having a hard time at home and are in desperate need of help.
But, how many times have you taken the word of a minor over that of
their parents or guardians, only to find out the kid was lying through
their teeth?”

Tyler stared at Derrick for what felt like hours.
He opened his mouth in an attempt to talk and then closed it again when
he realized he couldn’t refute those words. Derrick watched him break
out in a sweat. The veins in his forehead and neck looked ready to pop.
His normally rosy skin lost all trace of color. And just when Derrick
was about to take a step closer, Tyler turned around and buried his face
in the toilet again.

Derrick rubbed his face and started pacing
back and forth in the short hallway of his fifth floor walk-up
apartment. “Jesus… fucking unreal,” he muttered under his breath, his
mind working overtime, searching for a way to help his friend out of
this mess.

It wouldn’t be easy. He knew his opinion was tainted
by personal experience, but he didn’t trust the Administration for
Children’s Services to conduct a fair investigation to begin with.
Tyler’s mistake of talking to them and the cops without having any legal
representation made things a thousand times worse. They’d most likely
have to deal with several accusations of behavior consistent with that
of a child molester by the time the authorities were done twisting
things. The general population would want to lynch Tyler before it was
all said and done, and only God knew what would happen to Derrick’s job.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” Tyler asked from the bathroom door. His
voice was trembling, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like his
strength had abandoned him, but he managed not to cry. Somehow he was
holding onto his dignity, and Derrick admired him for that.

He
wasn’t as strong, though. “Crap.” Tears ran down Derrick’s cheek, and
two steps later he was in front of his friend, hugging him tightly.

“What the hell am I going to do, Derrick?” Tyler sobbed on his neck,
ultimately losing his battle against his own tears. “How are we going to
get out of this?”

“Shhh…” Derrick caressed his friend’s auburn hair and gently rocked him in his arms.

“Trust me. I have a plan.” He pulled back and dried off Tyler’s tears
with his fingers. “Come to the kitchen. I’ll make us some coffee while
you give me the details. I’m going to need every single one of them in
order to get us out of this mess.”

It looks like you have nothing to worry about!! Can't wait to read. Good question Araminta! I purchase ALOT of books and want to purchase them from the distributor where the author gets the most from their hard work.